Come to think of it, the answer to Delhi’s pollution woes probably lies less in the odd-even formula, and more in Star Trek.

All you had to do was say ‘Beam me up, Scotty’ into your ‘transmitter’, and Scotty would beam you up in seconds. The most efficient and environment-friendly way to get from point A to point B.

Travel in the real world can be quite an adventure, at least in Delhi and indeed other parts of the country. From jugaads to phat-phats with Harley engines, we’ve tried everything. Anything that moves.

But things have certainly improved in Delhi with the coming of the Metro and low-floor air conditioned buses. I still remember the Red Line and Blue Line days - killer monsters created by the private sector.

The AAP government has started a 15-day trial of its ambitious odd-even scheme

The trick in the early 1990s was to wait for a White Line, which were a tad more expensive but relatively more comfortable. But they were few and far between. The Red Line model was based on brute capitalist principles. The more passengers you got on board, the more money you made. So they’d always be overcrowded.

Aesthetic

Red Line buses had their own aesthetic. They were rickety and badly lit. The music was always Bollywood: Tu cheez badi hai mast mast, and turned up loud. The driver and conductor/ cleaner treated the vehicle as if it were a horse. The conductor would loudly thump the sides of the bus, shouting out the names of the stops to come: "ITO, Bus Adde, Maal Road, Camp, Azadpur, aaa ja!" It was like goading a horse to run faster on the race track.

The buses had no schedule. If there were not enough passengers, the bus would take its own sweet time until the driver was satisfied that it was full enough. Red Lines would also skip stops at will, depending on the driver’s mood. At the end of it you were just grateful that you’d got vaguely close to your destination.

If you were used to Red Lines, then Bombay’s BEST buses came as a pleasant surprise. To a young boy, the double-deckers were the most fascinating. One always wanted to sit on the top deck, otherwise it felt like a wasted trip. The driver had an old-world bhopu-style horn which he’d toot once in a while. It had a gentle sound, almost musical, not harsh or jarring at all.

The conductor would ring the bell at every stop - the bell rang along a thread on the ceiling of the bus. The conductor also had a worn leather bag, from which he’d pull out a ticket and punch it with practised ease. The tickets themselves were distinctive, rows of colourful numbers in small squares giving the fare for different distances.

Bombay’s buses were also more democratic. Unlike in Delhi, where Red Lines were used by the working class or students, in Bombay you’d see middle class people on the bus. You might own an art gallery, but that wouldn’t stop you from hopping on a bus. It was the convenient and sensible thing to do.

If the Delhi government wants people to drive less, it has to streamline the public transport system. In Delhi, you’ll walk for half an hour to get to the bus stop, you might end up waiting for the bus for yet another half hour, and then wherever the bus drops you, you might be stuck again for the last mile.

Auto-rickshaw

In posh neighbourhoods like Chanakyapuri, you won’t find an auto-rickshaw. Whereas in Bombay, you could be in upscale Bandra or Colaba, and still always find cabs or autos parked on the street at any time of the day or night. No app required.

Often, what’s environment-friendly is not efficient. And what is efficient is terrible for the environment. Allahabad, for example, only has cycle rickshaws. Autos are available at the railway station but not otherwise. The air in the city is cleaner, but the lack of automated transport slows things down. What if you want to get to the hospital in a hurry? Or come back from the cinema after a late night show. You’re stuck. And so you don’t step out.

Dehradun, on the other hand, has no cycle rickshaws. But it has Vikrams or tempos, which are the town’s lifeline. They are cheap and overcrowded, but they work. The Vikrams and mini buses connect pretty much every mohalla of Dehradun; it’s an efficient network. But Vikrams are like mobile factory chimneys, spewing black smoke into the valley air.

There was talk of introducing battery-operated Vikrams but used and exhausted batteries have their own problems of disposal.

Dangerous

I would happily bicycle around if I could, except that the traffic is too dangerous. In progressive Scandinavian countries, heads of state and CEOs regularly bicycle to work and it’s considered no big deal. It’s not a statement they are making.

At least our smaller cities and towns should give some serious thought to developing cycle tracks that connect the entire town, not like in Delhi where cycle lanes end abruptly in the middle of nowhere.